Recollections and Reassurances
by Time Tripper
Summary: Kennedy, one of Buffy's trainee potential slayers, can't sleep and neither can Willow. Conversation ensues. (This story takes place during the episode BRING ON THE NIGHT)


A streetlamp cast murky yellowness onto the front windowpanes, offering a spec of dim radiance, while light from a jasmine candle barely illuminated the small upstairs bedroom. It was a highly frightening time for both young women lying awake in the room; for one, the fear was exciting and intriguing, for the other, almost blinding. The calm from the candle's flickering lightshow on the ceiling was a pleasant, and desperately necessary, presence, offering momentary serenity. 

            The dark-haired girl, sprawled on the amply sized bed, tossed restlessly amid earth-toned floral cotton sheets, pillows in disarray. There was no possible way she was going to sleep, not with such impending evil creeping ever closer. Her mind was filled with questions, pictures, projections of what may or may not happen. Historically, she was not someone who lost sleep over things that were out of her control, but she knew intrinsically that this was different. What was happening in her world at this moment was absolutely unprecedented, filling her with emotions that were not only foreign, but in some ways thrilling. It was likely her destiny held much more for her than a death knell.

            She craned her neck back, leaning her head off the edge of the bed, her long russet hair like silk as it touched the floor. The Wicca, who lay only inches away, fascinated her.  Listening intently, she could hear Willow's breath, evenly inhaling and exhaling. From her upside-down vantage point, her eyes were fixed on Willow's copper hair spilling off her headrest; Willow's eyes were peering at the shadows dancing on the ceiling. The Wicca almost seemed ensorcelled, shrouded in the magic of the earth. The restless, spellbound girl on the bed decided it was time to break the silence.

            "What's on your mind, Willow?" inquired Kennedy, new to Sunnydale but in no way naive to what's been going on around her over the last few weeks. Until about 3 weeks prior, Kennedy was a wealthy freshman from Long Island, floating someplace between college classes and shopping on her dad's platinum cards. Once her path as a 'potential' became evident, she'd thought it ironically apropos that her desired course of study was philosophy. Affluence hadn't spoiled Kennedy; she was a sensitive, empathic girl, one who others gravitated to. If asked to describe her, a friend might say she was patient, focused, kind, and somewhat selfless. If asked to describe herself, Kennedy might agree, but it wouldn't seem conceited. That's just how she was. Confident. Secure. Self-assured. Now she was quite possibly about to inherit a most cumbersome task, one that relied on all those adjectives and more. 

            Willow stirred. She cleared her throat as she turned onto her stomach and met Kennedy's eyes. "What do you mean?" responded the Wicca, who continued, "besides the obvious big imminent evil?"

 Willow was captivating. Her eyes were wide and full of life, her skin like porcelain. Her lips were pouting.  Someplace within, she was curious why Kennedy seemed so taken with her. It was strangely flattering, but beguiling nonetheless. 

Kennedy chuckled softly. She, too, turned on her stomach, inching back on the bed so she could rest her chin on her folded hands.  "No," she said, "I can tell something else is on your mind." She never removed her eyes from Willow's. 

It was Willow who looked away. Across the room on a dresser sat a glass picture frame; the photo inside was taken only a few months back. If she remembered correctly, Xander had shot that photograph of she and her true love that carefree afternoon at the beach. It was a perfect moment in time captured on film, and it spoke volumes about the love she had shared with her soul mate.  

A palpable silence erupted for the moment, until Kennedy spoke again. "Tell me about Tara," she requested softly.

Immediately, Willow looked back at Kennedy. Her eyes balked of violation. What could this girl, this stranger in her home, possibly know about Tara, including her name and/or what their relationship was about? But Willow wasn't angry, just taken aback. This was a totally unexpected, unsolicited topic of conversation, one she wasn't completely sure she wanted to have. However, from the look in the younger girl's eyes, Willow could tell Kennedy's intentions were plain. Her inquiry was genuine. And in the few moments Willow's inner dialogue bounced these thoughts around, Kennedy had pretty much assessed the situation. Among being all the aforementioned adjectives, Kennedy was also highly intuitive.

"Dawn kinda filled me in on some things that've happened around here over the past few months," comforted Kennedy. The comment seemed to lower Willow's defenses, and she lowered her head to rest her face on her folded arms. 

"Gotta love Dawny," Willow mused. Kennedy smiled and suddenly Willow felt very comfortable, very comfort_ed_, very _normal_. It was a feeling that was rare of late. She liked it. "So, whatd'ya wanna know?"

"Did you love her?" asked Kennedy. It was bold and direct, but Willow didn't seem to mind. 

"More than anything in the world," Willow replied, "Tara was so many things to me, ya know?" She wore a sad smile. "We sort of completed each other. She would almost always finish my sentences," Willow recalled, "and that was without using telepathy." 

This made Kennedy chuckle kindly. She was gripped by Willow's words; the Wicca could sense it.  Kennedy reached her right hand downward and lightly skimmed her fingers over Willow's cheek. Oddly, Willow didn't flinch. There was too much sincerity in the touch. 

"She sounds like a beautiful person," reassured Kennedy. And she meant it. From the way Dawn had described Tara, she seemed like the most loyal, loving, kindred partner anyone could hope for. 

"She died right here," Willow said. Kennedy sat up almost instantaneously, her eyes wide. The Wicca continued, "right in my arms."

Kennedy was uncharacteristically speechless. She could all but listen as Willow kept on. 

"It was a beautiful sunny morning. She looked amazing that day, like a goddess. There was a kind of _glow _about her, a more fulfilled happiness for the first time in such a long time." A tear formed in Willow's eye. 

Kennedy's chest began to feel heavy with pangs of empathy. "Listen, Willow," she murmured, "you don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

Willow's eyes were glassed over, but she looked back up at Kennedy and whispered,  "No, I like talking about her. Not necessarily the part where she was shot dead by a super-geek, but it's good therapy for me.

"She had a lovely singing voice. This one time, Xander accidentally conjured up a demon that caused all of Sunnydale to reveal their innermost thoughts through song and dance. It was a big, scary mess. I mean, I couldn't carry a tune if the fate of the world hung in the balance," scoffed Willow, "but Tara, she was wonderful. While we were supposed to be concentrating on finding info on the Broadway demon, we decided to skip out and take a walk through the park. I'll never, ever forget that day, and the way she looked, and the words she sang."

"Wow," sighed Kennedy. She was mesmerized by the Wicca's recollection and could almost envision it in her mind. 

"Can I tell you something?" asked Kennedy. Willow, just west of being lost in thought, nodded her head at the potential slayer. "Sure."

Kennedy paused for a moment and said, "You make me feel very comfortable." This made Willow smile wanly. "I mean, safe, ya know?" reinforced Kennedy.

"Thanks, Kennedy," said Willow as she rolled back over until she was gazing at the ceiling again. The jasmine candle's flickering shadows were still up there, waving down at her. She closed her eyes and conjured up Tara's face. In her mind, she could see her true love's smile and hear her words, pouring out in a selfless honesty: _I'm under your spell…_

Kennedy followed suit and lay back down on the queen-size bed. "Goodnight, Willow," she said quietly. Willow didn't respond, and that was okay with Kennedy. In fact, she knew that any minute now they'd both be sound asleep, free from worries about what was beneath, intending to devour.


End file.
